


skin

by MartyMiaMatt



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, Hugs, Kisses, M/M, Making Out, Physical Contact, UST, implied mutual crush, soft klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 00:56:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartyMiaMatt/pseuds/MartyMiaMatt
Summary: Keith takes another step forward.His hands land on the sides of Lance’s head and he cups Lance’s face in his palms, holding it gently but firmly, as if Lance is a foreign object that needs to be handled with care.Keith inhales, with his eyes half-closed. Lance stills, not knowing exactly how he’s supposed to react. He could push Keith away; but there’s a part of him, a little pull somewhere, that is kind of curious to find out what exactly is going on, what is going to happen.





	skin

**Author's Note:**

> For Mads.
> 
> First time writing for the Voltron fandom!!! This isn't actually the first idea I had, but it was one that stuck. Unusually enough for me, I managed to finish writing this one-shot in one day.  
> I don't know how to Klance. I tried.

“And that’s why I think that Hunk is definitely the most qualified of us to—”

Lance’s sentence is abruptly cut short when all of a sudden, Keith steps away from the wall against which he was leaning, and instead determinedly strides in his direction.

They stand face to face, Keith’s lean figure filling the space near Lance.

 

It’s unusual for him to be the one to come all up in Lance’s face. Lance is usually the first to tease him, although Keith is always quick to react.

Lance looks at him, puzzled and a little defensive, because for once he’s pretty sure he said nothing to provoke him. He was only voicing his point of view as they went over the items of their last team reunion…

 

Keith is silent. His eyes scan Lance’s face, dark and intense, as if he’s looking for something; but it’s difficult from his expression to guess what he’s thinking.

 

“… What?!” Lance exclaims.

He crosses his arms and squares his shoulders, trying to mask his uneasiness.

He’s already half-readying himself to go off on a rant about how Keith doesn’t think his opinions are valuable and deserving of being listened to.

But Keith keeps staring.

Okay. That’s a little weird. Even for Keith’s standards of weird.

 

Keith takes another step forward.

His hands land on the sides of Lance’s head and he cups Lance’s face in his palms, holding it gently but firmly, as if Lance is a foreign object that needs to be handled with care.

Keith inhales, with his eyes half-closed. Lance stills, not knowing exactly how he’s supposed to react. He could push Keith away; but there’s a part of him, a little pull somewhere, that is kind of curious to find out what exactly is going on, what is going to happen.

So he stays where he is.

 

Keith’s face is very close to his own, now. Lance has seen his face, has looked at it, countless times; but now he can really take a look up close, take in every minute detail.

Dark lashes, thick eyebrows that are slightly furrowed, spreading a web of tiny wrinkles on Keith's smooth forehead.

The cloud of black hair, a deep forest falling around Keith’s neck and ears. Thick, glossy locks that are tinged with purplish shades when they capture the lights inside the castle, always looking much more perfect than they have any right to be.

Keith and his stupid hair, and his even stupider haircut.

 

( _ ~~Keith’s hair is pretty~~_ , not that Lance will ever tell him that. Lance is so jealous of its beauty it hurts. Sometimes he would like to touch it if Keith ever allowed it; he would like to run his fingers through that hair for hours, and hold in his hands fistfuls of those silky strands.

And okay, maybe he would still threaten Keith to cut it. But he wouldn’t mean it; it would be just to tease him a little. He wouldn’t actually do it.

Keith never needs to know this, but Lance likes Keith’s hair the way it is.)

 

Lance feels the light pressure of Keith’s fingers on the skin of his cheeks – they’re a little rough, a bit calloused, slender and strong. Even through this faint contact, he can still sense the force, the dexterity in those hands. Well, after all he, as well as the rest of the team, has seen Keith wield a sword.

Keith’s hands are warm, too. It’s something Lance never really had the opportunity to notice – how would he _ever_ know? It’s not like they ever _hold hands_ , of course – but they feel… nice.

Keith is not wearing his gloves, which is unusual for him. The two of them must make quite a spectacle, Lance finds himself thinking, standing in the middle of a corridor in the castle-ship, not saying a word and doing… whatever it is that they’re doing.

He still doesn’t have a word for this.

 

Keith’s hands graze Lance’s face. Fingertips trace the lines of his jaw, the tip of his nose, the unruly little tufts of hair along his hairline.

Keith leans closer.

He lightly bumps his forehead against Lance’s, their noses brush. At this point Lance is entirely paralyzed – he’s pretty positive he couldn’t move if he wanted. He can’t even breathe.

“H-hey, Keith, man, what are you…”

Lance somehow manages to push out the words, his voice a strangled, barely audible sound. Keith doesn’t answer.

 

One of Keith’s hands slides along Lance’s nape, resting on the back of his neck.

Keith looks as if he’s focusing on something.

Lance tastes Keith’s breath on his mouth. It’s the cool, fresh flavor of the Altean toothpaste-like powder that all of them use: but there’s something else, something he can’t describe, a strange sensation brought by the softness and warmth of Keith’s body and lips being so near.

 

Keith – he _smells_ him, that’s what he does, leaving Lance completely speechless. He sniffs at Lance, delicately, small little intakes of air around Lance’s face. The tip of his nose tickles Lance’s underjaw, his ears, his cheeks.

Keith doesn’t speak and breathes him in, like a wild animal trying to make sense of Lance not through his sight, but through scent and touch.

Lance doesn’t budge. He bites his lip, because it tickles and it’s strange, but Keith’s warm hand is still firmly on his nape and he feels Keith’s lashes flutter against his skin.

Is this… some sort of Galra thing? Or a Keith thing?

Heck, how is he supposed to _know_?

 

Keith’s free hand roams over Lance’s chin. Medium, index and thumb slide in slow succession on Lance’s lower lip.

 

Lance’s chest is about to burst.

He holds his breath.

 

Keith’s lets his arms drop to his sides.

Brusquely pulled away from a dream-like state, Lance is about to step back, ask for some kind of an explanation – but Keith doesn’t move away.

Instead, he puts his arms around Lance’s shoulders and just – leans against his chest, pressing their bodies together.

He rests his head on the curve between Lance’s neck and his left shoulder.

 

Lance is stiff at first. They’re chest to chest, Keith’s arms are a strong and solid presence around him.

He’s a little dizzy. He feels as if his knees are going to give way at any moment and he’s going to faint right on the floor at his rival’s feet, and that is going to be the ultimate demise of his dignity.

His heart is pounding in his chest, so hard the echo bounces in his throat, in his ears…

 

But there’s another sound, he realizes, little by little.

A calmer, slower, sound.

There are Keith’s breaths. Even, slow, and calm.

They come and they go, rhythmically, like a whisper in Lance’s ears.

And there is Keith’s heartbeat.

It’s slow and steady against Lance’s own chest. Keith’s torso moves up and down, faintly, under the fabric of his clothes.

It’s there, Keith’s heart, in unison with his. Real. Alive.

 

Keith makes a soft hum and holds Lance closer, as if this is the most normal thing he has ever done, as if it’s perfectly ordinary for the two of them to hug like this.

The weight of Keith’s body is tangible, vibrant against him, but Keith is not tense.

He’s just… falling, allowing himself to lean against Lance. He’s adjusted to Lance’s body and they fit together, no air and no space between them. One of Keith’s knees between Lance’s thighs, the other pressing against Lance’s right leg.

 

For once, Keith seems relaxed. Not exploding in one of his outbursts of anger, not restless and impatient and barely able to contain his need for immediate action.

He’s just… calm, at peace, and Lance thinks that maybe this is the first time he has ever seen Keith like this.

Little by little, Lance relaxes into the touch.

He lifts his arms, which have been left dangling along his sides, and he hesitantly wraps them around Keith’s body. He hugs Keith back.

 

They stand like that, holding each other.

Lance dares squeeze a little harder on Keith’s slender back, just to find out what it feels like.

He thinks he hears Keith snort a little in his ear, but not mockingly, rather in an affectionate way. Or maybe he’s wrong, he misheard it, and Keith didn’t make any noise at all. Lance doesn’t investigate it.

He closes his eyes, tracing circles on Keith’s back, covered by the familiar fabric of his usual white and red jacket.

It’s so _him_ , such an inseparable part of the ensemble, of all the things that make Keith himself. It’s  just like his hair and his sword, and the air of cool determination he irradiates that sometimes drives Lance crazy.

That jacket. Does he ever take it off? Maybe he sleeps in it, and Lance bites back a smile, before realizing that he has just pictured the way Keith may or may not sleep.

A fiery blush spreads on his cheeks then, as if someone has pressed a burning iron on his flesh.

 

Keith moves in his arms. Lance reluctantly starts to break the embrace, loosening his grip.

Keith looks at him again. His own cheeks are a little flushed, and the bangs on his forehead are a bit messier than before.

He raises one hand and brushes the left side of Lance’s face with his knuckles, a light caress.

 

“Lance.”

Lance jumps a little in his skin, startled.

“… Yes?”

Keith looks away for a moment. Then he leans closer, and before Lance can blink, Keith’s lips are pressing against his own.

 

Keith’s mouth is soft, open, a little wet. Lance’s lips are tightly shut at first, he’s too surprised and too frozen to react, but then he parts them, attempting to mimic what Keith is doing.

Keith moves his lips over Lance’s, slowly, but forcefully. He moves Lance’s face a bit farther down, lifts his chin to accommodate both their faces at a better angle.

The taste of Keith’s mouth is close to that of his breath. It’s hot, rich, a bit minty, almost pungent. It’s a mixture of the flavor of tooth powder and something else, something sweeter; Lance knows nothing like that taste, so in his mind, he decides that it has to be just _Keith_.

 

Keith keeps kissing Lance, and there’s some sort of urgency, of hunger to the way he does it. It’s different from anything Lance has ever experienced, different from anything he would have expected from Keith.

 

Not knowing what to do with his hands, Lance lands them on Keith’s shoulders, grasping him a little too tight.

Keith’s breath growls low in his throat. Something prods at the curve of Lance’s upper lip; is that…?

That’s Keith’s tongue, yeah, it curls lightly between Lance’s lips and then Keith softly pulls Lance’s lower lip between his teeth.

Lance clings to him, breathless. He’s drunk.

He returns the kisses, sloppy and clumsy. He keeps expecting Keith to protest, to make him feel bad for not being very good at this, but instead Keith moans and his nails scrape the shorter hair on Lance’s nape and Keith just kisses him harder.

Lance keeps his eyes closed. He really is going to faint after all, he thinks. He’s surprisingly okay with that idea now, if that’s the price to keep doing this.

 

At last, Keith pulls away.

Lance’s lungs are aching for air.

He stands there, while his whole body shakes. He glances at the other.

Keith looks serious, as serious and solemn as he usually does when he’s trying to project an aura of authority; but there’s a sparkle dancing in his dark eyes.

He’s _amused_ , Lance thinks, and his face very unhelpfully decides that this is the appropriate moment to blush even harder.

 

“Maybe you will _remember_ this,” Keith says, tone even and seemingly casual, the left corner of his mouth just barely tilted upwards.

He steps back, and begins moving towards the corner on the right, at the darker end of the corridor.

 

“ _Hey_!” Lance blurts out. He reaches out, trying to grasp Keith’s shoulder or the hem of his jacket. Too late; Keith is already too far.

“Come _back_ here!”

Lance thinks about sprinting after him, knowing that he could still catch him. He hesitates one moment too long, and then Keith is already several meters away.

He is turning away from him, and Lance can no longer see his face. Still, he caught a glimpse of something… something he’s not used to seeing.

That expression that he saw on Keith’s face, for the fraction of a second…

Lance could swear it was a smile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if the show has ever mentioned what they use on the ship to wash their teeth, but I assume they somehow do it. :D I figured the Alteans are kind of similar to humans in certain aspects so Allura might provide the Paladins with some toiletries that are similar to what they're used to on Earth but not exactly the same. I just made the toothpaste powder up, it's kind of an irrelevant detail but I thought it was cute. Please let me know if there's something in canon about this, lol.
> 
> I liked the idea of Keith surprisingly being a bit more experienced as a kisser even though canonically it's probably not super plausible. *shrug*
> 
> As usual, I would be super happy if you'd let me know what you think! :)  
> Marty


End file.
